


The New World Order and You

by Katatonic_State



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:54:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27369121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katatonic_State/pseuds/Katatonic_State
Summary: Sam WIlson might not be ready to take on the mantle of Captain America, but it doesn't matter what he wants - The US Department of Defence has its own plans. Meanwhile, Helmut Zemo has escaped from prison and Bucky Barnes believes that he's up to something.A take on what "The Falcon and the Winter Soldier" could be, inspired by what we know about the upcoming show, material in the comics and, of course, Bucky's crush on the new Captain.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson
Comments: 12
Kudos: 47





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

**New York, 2024**

Sam pulled the keys out the ignition and looked up at the house. It was a small building with a lot of space around it. Inside, you could see 180 degrees around the garden from any of the rooms. It was the house of someone paranoid and that paranoid someone had sniper training. He considered turning back. This was stupid. He'd seen Bucky twice in the four months it had been since the funeral. Both times had been social calls - friendly, if a bit awkward sometimes. Sam had felt the need to reach out to the guy, after everything that had happened and, if he was honest with himself, he needed the companionship. Bucky was a surprisingly fun person to talk to. Despite his past, he was lighthearted company and he joked a lot. He made Sam smile, and Sam was about to ruin his day.

He put the keys back into the car. He wasn't staying and he should never have driven all the way upstate. He could deal with this - he could deal with Ross - without dragging Bucky into it. Something moved in the doorway of the house. It was Bucky. He'd seen him. He waved at Sam, smiling.

 _Fuck_ , thought Sam. He got out of the car.

*

**Wakanda, 2018**

Sam's vision was filling with flakes of dust. He heard a voice calling his name. Was that Rhodey? He tried to reply but no sound came. He couldn't breathe.

*

**Wakanda, 2023**

Sam didn't wake up so much as reappear. He shook himself, unsure if he'd been dreaming. He gathered himself slowly to his feet, and started to wander through the trees. He was in Wakanda, but where was the fight? It was quiet but seconds ago there had been a deafening noise of gunfire and violence.

"Steve? Steve!" Sam heard a desperate voice yelling. It was Barnes.

"Barnes? It's Wilson. Where are you?"

Barnes half-ran, half-staggered into Sam's line of sight. He looked a mess.

"Sam! What's going on? What happened to me? Where is everyone?" He was panicking, a rare amount of emotion showed in his voice.

"I don't know. I woke up over there. Have you seen Rhodey?"

"I was disappearing. I saw it - my legs turned to dust." Barnes' eyes were wide and his voice was loud and too fast.

Sam recognised the signs of panic. He stopped asking questions and pulled Barnes towards him tight.

"I don't know. It's okay. Just breathe" He spoke softly, holding the other man gently but firmly. Barnes' breathing slowed slightly.

Internally, Sam tried to contain his own sense of rising dread. He had seen it too. He had disappeared - dissolved into thin air. What had happened and where the hell was everybody?

*

**California, 2023**

At the funeral, Sam didn't know where to look. He barely knew Tony. The last time they spoke had been in a supermax prison that Stark himself had sent him too. The time before that, he had shot Sam in the chest. It felt wrong but he couldn't say that he'd miss the man. Natasha, however, he would miss. The team already felt cold and scattered without her. Was that wrong? Thinking about someone else during a funeral service? He didn't know where to look so he turned to Barnes.

The winter soldier was standing with his hands in his pockets, looking about as awkward as Sam felt. He had a far-off look in his eyes. Sam guessed he wasn't thinking about Tony either. He had hardly met the man, outside of the time Stark tried to kill him. No, he was thinking about Howard: Tony's father and Barnes' friend. Sam recognised the guilt in his eyes. It hurt to see it.

He reached out a hand to his shoulder. Barnes turned his head and smiled faintly. Sam hoped that Barnes - He mentally corrected himself. He hoped that _Bucky_ understood what he meant by it.

*

Sam helped Steve get into the taxi and watched it drive off. Then he headed back towards the lake to Bucky. The old man hadn't said much to his childhood friend: a few words, nicities, congratulations on the marriage. For lifelong friends, their exchanges had been brief. Sam found Bucky standing a little back from the water.

"Barnes? You doing alright?"

Bucky didn't turn to face him but he spoke. "What do you think, Sam? Do you think I'm alright?"

Sam was taken aback by the anger in his voice. But it dawned on him how much worse this was for Bucky. Steve's surprise retirement had lost Sam a friend and a colleague, leaving him a little more alone in a world completely different from the one he left five years ago. To be honest, he was feeling sorry for himself. But Bucky had lost his only friend and was along in a world with 80 years worth of changes. Steve had abandoned him; he'd gone home without him. Sam was amazed that he'd kept this reaction hidden from Steve so well.

"I'm sure you could go back too, if you wanted to. Banner would show you how"

"What? No. I can't go back. I'm not like Steve." There was a slight shake to Bucky's voice. Sam understood what he meant. Steve, despite all he'd been through, was still the same man at heart. Bucky had changed so much since the war. There was no going back.

"We were supposed to go through this together. He said he'd be with me -" Bucky cut himself off. He clearly didn't plan to be this open with Sam.

Sam began to reach out for him again, but he lowered his arm. _What comfort could a pat on the shoulder provide?_

"You're not alone, Barnes. I hope you know that"

"You don't know what you're talking about. You've never faced this."

"Bu-"

A metallic whirr and a dark mass flew past Sam and into the tree behind him. Bucky was breathing heavily, his metal fist lodged in the bark. A few birds scattered in shock. There was a flash of orange-yellow.

Sam stood firm, hoping that he hadn't visibly flinched. Bucky wasn't going to push him away that easily. He looked pointedly at the metal arm inches from his face and then up at the orange in the sky. "Orioles..." he muttered.

"What?!" Bucky stared at him.

"Orioles - the birds. If you're going to endanger the local wildlife, you should at least know what its called."

Bucky blinked. Then he started to laugh.

*

**New York, 2024**

Bucky approached Sam as he exited the car. The leaves on the ground crunched underfoot as he walked and the February air was cold. Bucky was wearing a t-shirt. _God damn superhumans..._ Sam thought to himself, but he smiled as he clasped Bucky's hand and pulled him into a brief hug.

"I wasn't expecting to see you." Bucky looked confused, but pleased.

"I wasn't expecting me either," Sam replied. "Just, you know, dropping by..." This wasn't believable.

"You're an hour's drive from the compound, two hours from your apartment."

"More like four hours. There was traffic." Sam paused, knowing that Bucky could tell something was up. It wasn't even 10 am yet. This wasn't a casual visit. "I have news. Not good news. Can we talk inside?"

Bucky shrugged. Any hint of a smile was gone from his face. He turned around, saying something about coffee.

"Yeah.. Thanks," Sam replied, assuming he was being offered a cup. He glanced over his shoulder, not really sure what he was looking for and then followed Bucky indoors.


	2. Chapter 2

"I like the hair."

  
"What?" Bucky wasn't expecting a compliment from Sam. "Oh, yeah thanks. I get fewer strange looks now."

  
"It looks good. Suits you." There was a playful tone to Sam's voice. Bucky wondered if he was being made fun of.

"Stop it." Bucky turned and left the kitchen area. He placed one mug of coffee on the table near Sam and clasped the other in his hands, sitting down on the chair opposite the sofa. He'd got the sofa for Sam. Or rather, Sam had mocked him for not owning any real furniture the first time he visited and Bucky had felt embarrassed. The haircut wasn't for Sam, or at least that's what Bucky told himself. But maybe it was all part of the same general idea: making some effort to be a normal guy again.

"Stop what?" Sam grinned at him. Yes, he was definitely making fun.

"Why are you here, Sam?"

Sam looked serious again. The same deadpan expression he had outside. "I got a phone call this morning, from Rhodey. You know the guy with the silver flying suit?"

"Yeah, I remember," Bucky nodded. "What did he say?"

"He called me at 5am to tell me that they're coming to take the shield away."

"What?"

"The shield. Steve's shield. They - I think he must have meant General Ross, the US army - they want the shield."

"It's not theirs. It's yours. Refuse to hand it over."

"It's not that simple." Sam sipped his coffee slowly, planning his words. "I was pardoned after the snap, after we disappeared. We all were. But they only did that because of Tony and Steve's clout. Since we came back, since the fight, we've been on thin ice with the department of defence."

"I know that. But what's happened? Why now?"

"I dunno, man." Sam ran his hand over his head. "I never signed their accords. I don't take orders from them and they don't like that."

Bucky watched Sam, taking in what he was saying. The General wasn't just asking for a piece of metal from Sam. This was about something more. If Sam didn't do what they want, they'd punish him. They'd declare him a fugitive again. He'd have to leave the country.

_And they'd come for you too._

Bucky took another sip of coffee. Sam was talking again, but he wasn't really listening. 

"...never even wanted it. But it's different now it's mine, you know?"

"Yeah, I get it." Bucky set his mug down on the table. "How're your family, Sam?"

Sam slowed. He eyed Bucky carefully. "They're good. It's been hard. Four months ago, my mom hadn't seen me in seven years. Between being on the run and the.. the blip."

Bucky didn't have to say anything.

"I can't go on the run again." Sam said slowly. "It'd kill her."

"Then you have to give Ross the shield."

*

**California, 2023**

After the service and the requisite standing around solemnly, the funeral loosened up a bit. The quiet chatter and occasional uneasy laughter grew until suddenly it felt like no one had even died. This kind of surreal atmosphere was the same at every funeral Bucky had ever been to. Although, it had been a long time since he'd attended one. _Caused a few of them, of course._ Bucky tried to ignore that voice. If there was anything he'd learned from his therapy in Wakanda, it was to always ignore that voice. 

  
He was standing a little away from everyone, leaning against a tree. He didn't know anyone here really. Steve was busy talking to everyone, making sure they felt "seen to". He wasn't like this at his mom's funeral. He had ran away as soon as the service ended. Was that the last funeral Bucky went to? Sarah's? Probably not, but it was so hard to remember. Back then, he'd have been the one doing the rounds and talking to every guest. It seemed ridiculous to imagine now. 

Bucky's eyes wandered to Sam, who was standing a few metres away talking to Maximoff and... _Bolton? Baxter? Burton?_ ... the man with the bow and arrow. Bucky watched Sam talk, smile and laugh and thought about his hand on his shoulder. It had felt intense. In the jungle, when he'd found him, it had felt intense then too. _It was an intense situation_. Maybe that was all it was.

  
His quiet contemplation was ruined when Sam turned and caught him staring. He walked over to Bucky, with all the surreal cheerfulness that he associated with funerals.

"You alright here?"

"I'm fine."

"Ok," Sam had a determined look in his eye. "Then come on! I need to talk to the space lady who shoots lasers from her hands. I need backup."

"Who?"

"The flying one. Come on, there's apparently a raccoon and a tree who talk. They're leaving soon!"

"I met the raccoon." Bucky said blankly. "He was rude."

Sam laughed, infectiously. Bucky couldn't help but smile with him. He followed him back towards the crowd and the quest to mingle with whatever aliens were present. It was stupid, but it felt natural and normal. It felt like something the old Bucky would have done.

*

**New York, 2024**

The convoy didn't arrive until the early afternoon, giving Sam and Bucky a few hours to reconnect. They talked about their lives, how Sam was settling back into things and how Bucky was adjusting to life in America. He tried to make it clear that he had a social life outside of Sam, but he doubted that he was convincing. They talked about the shield and about the Avengers. This was Sam's turn to be unconvincingly confident. Bucky could tell from his face that he didn't know if he wanted the responsibility. He didn't want to push it, so Bucky changed the subject. He told a few stories about Wakanda which Sam happily listened to, responding with the appropriate interjections and occasional wisecrack. He was a good audience for stories. He was good company in general. Sam had a unique ability to make Bucky feel at ease, even in uneasy situations like this one. 

Despite this, when he heard the cars pull up on the gravel outside, Bucky reached for the handgun that was taped to the underside of the table. This got him a look from Sam, but he didn't feel like explaining himself. They both got up and headed for the door. Sam lead the way. This was his fight; Bucky was just backup.

"Looking well, Ross." Sam greeted the General with a veneer of friendliness.

"You look like ass, Wilson." The old man was standing at least ten feet away. There were a couple of black SUVs and less than a dozen men in suits behind him. Their guns were concealed but not subtle. And there was one in a t-shirt and combat pants. He looked like a marine, although Bucky had trouble keeping track of the changes to the uniforms over the years.

"You really know how to respond to a compliment, man." Sam's voice was still casual. If he was freaking out at all, he didn't show it.

"Let me be more specific." Ross wasn't having any of it. "You look like a man who fled his apartment at 05:00 this morning in fear of the federal government."

Bucky couldn't see Sam's expression, but saw his stance stiffen up. 

"That shield is military property. Hand it over."

There was a silence. Sam didn't move.

"Wilson, I gave you a direct order."

"That would mean something if I wasn't discharged over a decade ago." Bucky winced at the sarcasm in Sam's voice. This wasn't how they said he would play it.

"Captain America and all related products, merchandise and intellectual property have been owned by the US military since the 19-fucking-40s, Wilson." Ross barked. "Hand it over."

Bucky couldn't help himself. "Why? The howling commandos were never US army. It was a joint allied venture."

  
Ross's head snapped to glare at Bucky. "Captain America is the business of the United States army. The clue is in the name."

"I was there." Bucky continued. He saw Sam flash him a glance of encouragement. "It wasn't an American operation. It never was. We were British, French and American and... desegregated." He saw Ross's face start to turn red. "It wasn't exactly the army's style at the time, you see..."

Sam laughed, enjoying watching Bucky wind Ross up. Bucky was right, of course. But they'd already decided that this wasn't a battle worth fighting. Sam walked to his car with his hands in the air. He moved slowly, revelling in the theatre of it. He opened the boot to reveal the shield.

"Walker!" Ross shouted.

The marine walked up to take the shield from the car. Sam backed away as he did so. Bucky didn't reach for his gun, but he mentally rehearsed the movement in case it was necessary.

Bucky looked the man up and down. He was taller than Sam and broad in the shoulders. He had short, blondish hair and the aryan good looks of a military poster boy. He looked a bit like Steve. Walker fit his arm through the shield before carrying it back to behind Ross. Bucky realised what was going on. Sam was being replaced.

"He looks pretty comfortable with that shield." Sam observed. He must have caught on too. Bucky saw his head move, eyeing Walker up and down.

"He's been training with a duplicate." Ross admitted. "No substitute for the real thing. Vibranium behaves differently, apparently." 

There was a pause. Some of the tension in Bucky's shoulders released itself. The shield was gone. No one had been hurt. Still, he wasn't sure about Walker. 

"I hope you understand there's no hard feelings, Wilson." Ross couldn't have sounded less sincere if he'd tried. "America needs a captain it can depend on to act in her best interests. She needs a soldier who can execute orders at the highest level."

Bucky was silent. His eyes were still fixed on Sam, trying to guess his reaction.

"Clearly we disagree on whether America's interests and your orders are really the same thing."

This comment from Sam turned Ross red again. He breathed deeply, clearly struggling to keep the conversation civil.

"If I wanted advice about what's best for this country, the last people I'd turn to are a traitor and a communist spy."

 _Fascist spy_ , thought Bucky. Hydra weren't communists. Hell, they'd had more bases in the US that the USSR if you included the infiltration in S.H.I.E.L.D. This wasn't the time for more snarky corrections, though.

  
"So, you've found yourself someone who will do whatever you tell him to." Sam mused. "I'm happy for you."

"He'll be better than you know, Wilson."

What? These words struck Bucky to his core. What did he mean by that?

"What do you mean by that?" Sam was clearly on the same page as Bucky.

Bucky saw a light in Sam's back pocket. His phone was ringing. Sam looked at it, clearly not expecting any meaningful answer from Ross. 

Bucky wishes he could see Sam's face as he mutters something quietly. Ross responds briefly, also too quiet to hear. The men get back into the cars as quickly as they had arrived. 

As soon as they were out of sight, Sam whipped round to face Bucky. "Did you see the news?"

"What?" Bucky frowned, then checked his own phone. It hadn't vibrated, but sure enough there was a news alert.   
Helmut Zemo escapes from Austrian Prison.

"Bucky? Did you see?"

"Yeah, it's here." Zemo had been on transit in Austria and someone had sprung him from the prison bus. Bucky kept reading the article. They had made arrangements to move the prisoner after repeated death threats. Someone had t-boned the bus on the highway yesterday evening, killing the driver and one of the guards. Someone, it looked like hired mercenaries had swarmed the crash, shot the remaining guards and run off with Zemo. 

"Fuck." Bucky couldn't manage much more than that. "I have to go."

"Wait!" Sam shouted, impotently. He followed Bucky back into the house. "Are you sure about that?"

Bucky stopped in his tracks in the hall. Sam almost walked into him. "I can't leave this. I need to find him."

"You don't know where he is."

"Austria. His bus crashed in Austria. I can't not go, Sam."

"For fuck's sake, Barnes." Sam sighed and handed Bucky his phone. It showed a text from a Sharon. _Sharon Carter?_

"Z in Bgrd" it read.

"She means Belgrade." Sam sighed again. "CIA thinks Zemo's in Belgrade. If we're going anywhere, we're going to Serbia."

"Okay," Bucky was surprised at Sam's willingness. "You just said "we". Does that mean you're coming with me?"

"An unauthorised mission in a foreign country with no oversight?" Sam laughed darkly. "I'm not saying it's a good idea."

"Hey, if Sam Wilson and James Barnes feel like going on holiday to Serbia, who's to say we can't?" Bucky smirked. "Besides, Belgrade је прелеп град."

Sam eyed him. "I'm with you on this. I want to be there in case he's got something planned... on one condition." He looked at Bucky with a serious look that was hard to identify. "If they can't catch him without us, we intervene. Otherwise it's recon only."

"да, наравно."

"That better actually be Serbian and not just shit you're making up."

Bucky grinned again, and moved to get his things. He had a go-bag ready, of course. He always did. Internally, he wasn't happy about any of this. Like always, he'd rather stay at home. But he'd meant what he'd said to Sam. Zemo was dangerous. He had proved that at length already. Bucky couldn't bring himself to sit this one out. _Let's hope you haven't dragged Wilson into something he'll regret._


	3. Chapter 3

Sam made the call to fly commerically to Europe. It would be slower than a quinjet, but sneaking a jet out the compound would be impossible without being noticed and gave them no plausible deniability if they were discovered. Besides, years on the run had given Sam some experience in covert travel. Both he and Bucky had fake passports on hand, which probably said something about how precarious their living situations were. They'd packed his wings and their weapons in a bag designed to hide its contents when scanned. It went in the hold just in case. The only remaining obstacle was Bucky's arm, which got him a few strange looks going through security. The agent who frisked him seemed to accept it was just a high-tech prosthetic and didn't report them. So, within a few hours of speaking with Ross, Sam sat down next to Bucky on a 15 hour flight to Belgrade.

  
Bucky had been mostly quiet since he'd found out about Zemo. The talkative man who had made Sam coffee wasn't there anymore. This worried Sam. It worried him a lot, actually. He didn't like being reminded of the old Bucky and seeing him silent with an unreadable but determined look on his face was bringing up some bad memories. Sam shook off some of his concern and decided to talk shop.

  
"Sharon's ID-ed one of the mercenaries, Nikolić. He's probably in charge of the unit, and she knows where they're based at the moment. That's probably where they took him. We go, we stake out. We find out anything we can." 

  
"What if the CIA get there first?"

"Possible, but not likely. They're chasing a hundred leads right now. Sharon's got a hunch this one's the right thread to pull."

"A hunch? Can we rely on that?"

"Hey, she worked out you were in Bucharest when no one else knew what continent you were on." Sam raised his eyes at Bucky. "Her hunches are good. I trust her."

Bucky scanned Sam's face for a few seconds. He seemed satisfied with his response and turned away.

Sam considered talking again. His counselling instincts told him to ask Bucky questions, to try to get him to open up again. Sam knew this was patronising of him. He'd offered himself up as a listening ear, a friendly face and a shoulder to cry on more than enough times. If Bucky wanted to talk to him, he would. Besides, Sam had a nagging suspicion that the impulse to reach out to the man was more selfish and less altruistic than he'd care to admit. It wasn't really about making sure Bucky was okay, not always. It was about how much better Sam would feel if the Bucky sitting next to him was the cheerful, friendly guy he'd been getting to know. 

  
Sam sighed and put his earphones in, scrolling through the in-flight movies for something to distract him. About twenty minutes into a forgettable zombie flick, Bucky tapped Sam's arm for attention. Sam removed one earphone to listen.

  
"Sam?" Bucky was looking at Sam intently, their faces close.

  
"Yes?"

  
"What did you say to Ross?"

  
"You were there, Bucky."

  
"After your phone went off and he left. What did you say?"

  
"Oh, I just told him to go." Sam tried to judge Bucky's reaction. He looked unsatisfied. "I think he knew what the text was about. Not that it was from Sharon - he can't have known that. But he probably knows about Zemo, right?"

  
"He probably knew about it before it was in the news."

  
"Exactly, yeah." Sam turned away from Bucky and paused the movie. "You think he came for the shield because of Zemo. That they're connected."

  
"Seems obvious."

"Is that a dig?" 

"No, I just meant that I'd been thinking about it." Bucky faced forward, staring at the chair in front. "I think he wanted to stop you from going after Zemo, by taking the shield." 

"Undeniably successful plan there."

Bucky snorted. 

"Maybe it's more about making sure that whatever I do, it's not associated with Captain America." 

Bucky nodded. "That could be it. He doesn't like you."

"Thanks, I had noticed." 

"And he's got plans for Walker too."

"Yeah, big plans." Sam sighed. "But maybe he'll be good at the job. He looks the part, at least."

Bucky turned to Sam again. "No."

"What?"

Bucky moved his lips as if to say something but he paused. After a few seconds he managed, "I don't think you should give up yet."

"I didn't say I'd give-"

"And I don't think he'll make a better Captain. You just need to get used to being in charge."

Sam eyed Bucky. He didn't know what to say.

"Thanks, man."

*

It was nearly a full day later when they arrived at their destination; a tall industrial-looking building out from the centre of the city. It was getting dark and the sky was a sickly mix of pink and grey. Maybe Bucky was right and Belgrade really was beautiful, but between the grey airport and the Yugoslavian architecture in front of him, Sam was feeling pretty bleak about the place. Although, nearly everywhere was a bit more bleak nowadays.

"Heading in now. Radio silence." Bucky's voice came through on Sam's earpiece.

"Roger that."

Sam peered over the edge of his rooftop hiding place to watch Bucky work. It was really something watching him interact with people on the way here. When H.Y.D.R.A. had sent him on missions, it was usually as a blunt instrument - a purely destructive force - but he wasn't half bad at the subtle side of things too. He reminded Sam of Natasha, effortless slipping between languages and always being the person people expected to see, never raising suspicion. Sam watched as Bucky walked up to the building. He'd acquired a yellow high-visibility coat at some point which gave him the air of someone who was definitely supposed to be here. _No one ever questions a man in high vis_. That was one of Nat's sayings. Clearly, it was common knowledge among spies.

Bucky was out of sight for a long time. The sun finally set and the place looked even more sinister in the darkness. Through his goggles, Sam could still clearly see the people on the ground below him. A few men, at least ten of them, dressed in dark colours. He spotted an AK-47 and assumed that there were more weapons he couldn't see. A few had gone into the building. They weren't in a hurry. Sam had to assume they didn't know anyone else was inside. Eventually, after at least half an hour of tension, Sam heard from Bucky.

"Sam. I found Nikolić." 

And then something exploded.

*

Sam instinctively flew into the air, up and away from the blast. He turned to survey the building from afar. Something had blasted its way through a wall near the top floor. Sam tried to analyse the damage, racking his brain to think of what this could have been. It looked like the work of a rocket launcher, fired from inside the building. _Fuck_ , thought Sam. _Just like Barnes to get himself shot at with a freaking bazooka_.

  
Sam glanced downwards. Men were swarming around the base of the building, more than before. They'd probably spot him soon enough. He put a hand to his ear.  
"Buck, what's your status?"

No response.

Sam felt his heart rate increase.

"Buck, are you hurt?"

Bucky's voice sounded in Sam's earpiece. 

"I need evac."

Sam turned the corner and spotted Bucky. He was standing on a ledge on the side of the building, right next to the hole in the side of it. He was spread with his arms against the wall, making himself an obvious target. At least he'd taken the high vis off, same thought to himself. He swooped down and landed on the ledge facing him. He landed close, his feet on either side of Bucky's. Sam reached up in the same movement, grabbing a pipe above Bucky's head for balance and tapping a button on his wrist. His wings folded inwards and up, forming a surfboard-shaped shield that covered them both. 

"Move your arms."

Bucky just stared at him in response.

"Barnes!" Sam was more aggressive this time. "Your arms aren't covered. Move them."

Sam couldn't see Bucky's face from this close, but he could tell he was scared. He could smell the sweat and almost feel how clammy his neck was. It made sense. The ledge they were standing on was narrow and high off the ground. Most people would be paralysed in a situation like this. 

"If you want to get down safely, you'll have to trust me, Bucky." This time Sam was deliberately softer. He was practically whispering in Bucky's ear. "Put your right arm around me. There's a strap under the wing. You can grip that."

Eventually, he felt Bucky move his arm into place.

"Ok, now the le-" 

Suddenly, they were being shot at. A rain of bullets - machine gun fire - travelled across his wings. A few hit Bucky's left arm. The sound was near deafening and Sam had to shout to be heard over the metallic din. "Left arm now, Barnes!" 

Bucky did as he was told. Sam lowered one arm to grip below Bucky's shoulders. The shooting paused. _Reloading_.

"You're going to hate me for this."

  
"What?" Bucky managed a word, muffled into Sam's shoulder.

  
"Keep your legs straight. In fact, keep your whole body stiff until I say so." Sam considered cracking a joke about this but the bullets started again and he knew he wouldn't be heard. 

  
Without further warning, Sam pushed himself away from the wall with his remaining hand. He fell backwards, allowing himself to flip over until he was diving head-first towards the ground. The gunfire stopped - they assumed that they'd hit him. Sam was calm. He'd done this a hundred times, although never with a passenger. Thankfully, Bucky was following orders and keeping his body rigid against Sam's. As the ground rushed towards them, Sam activated his wings and they swooped up again.

  
The shooters reacted slowly, managing a few close shots before allowing Sam to speed off into the night. He hoped it would last.

"Relax your legs."

Bucky did as he was told, allowing his body to hang under Sam's. Sam got his arms underneath him and manoeuvred him into a bridal carry. This made flying considerably easier but he knew it couldn't last long. Flying long distance was a challenge at the best of times, and Bucky was a heavy man.

"We have to set down somewhere."

"Hmph."

Sam glanced down and realsed Bucky had his eyes closed. "You scared of heights, Barnes?"

Bucky didn't open his eyes but said flatly. "No."

"'Cause it's not embarrassing if you are. Most people are."

"Shut up."

Sam snorted, although he felt a little guilty for the lack of compassion. He softened the blow,

"I've got this. Just sit tight."

In the interest of not disturbing Bucky any more than he had to, Sam didn't say anything else as he searched for somewhere to land.

For the same reason, he didn't mention that one of the shooters hadn't missed and his right leg was bleeding heavily.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam set Bucky down somewhere out in the boondocks. Bucky wasn't sure exactly where. He'd kept his eyes shut most of the way, mostly out of fear but partly to avoid looking at Sam. His heart rate was still elevated after the flight. There was something about being so close to the man, being held so tightly... _Jesus Christ, James._ It was a lot to handle.

  
They'd landed in some warehouse or old garage. A large building entirely open on one side. Bucky kept his eyes shut for a few seconds after Sam lowered his feet to the ground. When he opened them, Sam was still standing there directly in front of Bucky. In the low, electric light Bucky could just about make out his face. He looked concerned.

"What happened in there?"

"Oh," Bucky didn't expect the question. His mind was preoccupied with the flight over, with Sam's arms. He cleared his throat. This was ridiculous. "I found your guy, eventually.

They're definitely the guys from the footage of the bus crash. Building was full of weapons."

"Including a bazooka?"

"Yeah, he caught me by surprise."

"But you got out."

"I was shot out through the wall. I didn't have much of a choice."

Sam looked at him incredulously. "You were shot. With a rocket launcher. And you're fine." He smiled and shook his head. "Jesus, Buck."

"I wouldn't exactly say fine." But Bucky returned the smile. "I should have been more prepared. I could have brought more of my kit from the house."

"What like you've got some kind of bazooka-repellent spray?" Sam said sarcastically. He'd turned away from Bucky, satisfied that he wasn't hurt.

"No, but I could have brought my own bazooka." Bucky was semi-serious.

Sam laughed at him. "Well you know what they say. The only thing that stops a bad guy with a rocket launcher is a good guy with a rocket launcher."

It was clearly a joke. Bucky didn't get it. "What is that? Is that a reference to something?"

"Honestly, you have no idea how lucky you are to have missed the last eighty years of politics."

"Yeah, if you say so.." Bucky's gaze drifted down to Sam's leg. Christ. "Sam, what the hell?"

Sam's right leg was drenched in blood. The red looked black in the darkness. He'd been shot. Bucky's stomach dropped.

"Yeah, I should look at that." Sam gingerly sat himself down to inspect his leg. "It's just grazed. I would have said if it was serious."

Bucky knelt down beside him, trying to get a look at the damage. Sam gently slapped his hand away. 

"It's deep for a graze, Sam." Bucky bit his lip. "You're bleeding a lot."

"Hey, which one of us is the medic?" Sam fumbled for his medical pack, wincing slightly.

Bucky tried to calm himself. Sam did know what he was talking about after all. Bucky's heart was still beating faster than usual from his time in the air, and he told himself that this was why he was so bothered. Bucky was aware that if this had happened to him, he would probably have just ignored it. He handled injury well, after everything Hydra had done. But Sam wasn't superhuman and therefore needed more concern. _Yeah, that's why you're so concerned._

"Let me do that."

"I'm fine, Buck."

"Being in charge means letting other people do things sometimes." Bucky said, taking the kit out of Sam's hands with a little force. "Let me help you."

Sam gives in and leans backwards, unzipping his pants as he does so. Bucky feels a sudden pressure in his throat at the sight. _He's just letting you get at the wound._ Sam was oblivious to Bucky's reaction as he pulled his pants down to his knees, exposing the gash in his thigh. He then got his phone out, giving Bucky a gesture to get on with it.

  
Bucky got to work cleaning around the wound. He double checked Sam's diagnosis: just a graze, no bullet. Despite this, it was a deep wound - a long gash on the outside of his thigh. It was an infection risk for sure. Bucky tried to occupy his mind with these medical thoughts while he worked. This wasn't easy. The skin on Sam's thigh reflected the dim light, a little shiny from being cleaned. Bucky was kneeling to the side of Sam but he imagined himself between his legs, holding them, stroking them. He could picture Sam beneath him, hot and needing and Bucky felt himself stir with the thought of himself inside the other man. 

_Jesus Christ._ Bucky cleared his throat again. Sam glanced at him, then turned back to his phone. Bucky rumaged through the kit to find some yebhalsam - a Wakandan medicinal balm that would numb the pain and accelerate healing. Sam hissed a little as Bucky rubbed it into the wound but he didn't complain. The rubbing motion didn't help Bucky's predicament. The pressure in his pants persisted and he just hoped Sam would continue to ignore him. It was dark anyway, he could get away with it. _You need to get laid, James._ It was true. It had been years - decades - hence the hair trigger in situations like this. Although, he'd be lying to himself if he said it was just that. There was something special about Sam. Hell, even in crummy lighting, dirty clothes and with a bored look on his face, Sam was gorgeous. _Not interested, though._ No, Sam wasn't interested.

  
Bucky dressed the wound, mentally conscripting himself to find himself a date when they got back. The thought of going home reminded him of why they were here. Zemo. The memory of that man and of what he'd done last time they'd met came flooding back to Bucky. He could cleary picture himself fighting his way out of that building, attacking Steve, choking Sam. The memory hurt. But it killed whatever was going on in his pants, at least.

"Done." Bucky said, finally clearing up the supplies.

"Oh," Sam looked down at his leg then shuffled his pants back on. He looked distracted still and as soon as he'd stood up, his eyes were glued to his phone once again.

"What's happening, Sam?" Bucky couldn't figure him out.

Sam looked up at him, paused and then put his phone back in his pocket. He made a small, awkward laugh and ran his hand over his head. "The world has met its new Captain America."

Bucky didn't understand.

"Walker. He just debuted at some football game. National anthem and all."

Bucky was quiet, trying to read Sam's expression. He didn't look angry. He had to be angry, right? 

"So, yeah. Half of twitter says I'm still Cap, half of it is creaming over him."

"I don't think scrolling through racist internet comments is a good idea."

Sam gave him a look like he was about to snap at him. But he refrained. "Yeah... Sure, man. It's just another thing to deal with when I get back." He sighed, and looked up. "We should get going. They'll find us here eventually."

Bucky nodded.

"Shame we didn't get anything on Zemo though." Sam sighed again. "Geez."

"What about the phone?"

Sam turned his head towards Bucky. "What?"

It dawned on Bucky that he hadn't mentioned the phone. Distracted in part by heights and flying, but mostly by Sam, he hadn't even thought about it. 

"I swiped Nikolić's phone." Sam blinked at Bucky. "Or somebody's phone. It was on top of a case of guns in the building. He was coming back to get it when he caught me." Bucky fumbled in his pockets for the damn thing and handed it over. "Do you think you can make something of it?"

Sam stared at him, snatching the phone. "Can I make something of it? As in, do I know how a phone works because I'm not literally a hundred years old?" There was a mix of genuine frustration and playful exaggeration in his voice.

Bucky felt the need to apologise, but it came out as more of a laugh than a "Sorry."

Sam cuffed him on the side of his head, gently. "Okay. Let's see what we've got."

*

The phone itself had very little information on it. Its text and call history had been deleted, which was routine practice for these kinds of hired killers. There were no contacts saved either, but the guy had racked up a decent high score in Solitaire. There was one lead, however. The maps app was running and it was currently looking at an address in the country, about half way between where they were and Novi Sad. Sam looked it up on satellite and found an old farm house. It looked like nothing from the air, which was suspicious enough to be worth checking out. 

Sam decided it was too far to fly, which was a relief to Bucky but it left them with a transportation problem.

"You want to steal a car?"

"Pfft. Course not. I'm Captain America." Sam grinned at Bucky. "You're going to steal a car. I'm going to watch."

The cheekiness of the damn man charmed Bucky. Although he still felt heavy and serious about the mission. They found a suitable vehicle and Bucky made quick work of jump starting the engine. The conversation died down as Sam drove north. Just like on the plane, Sam seemed to give up on trying to talk. Ordinarily, this would have bothered Bucky but his thoughts were occupied with the task at hand. Somewhere at the back of his mind, however, the silence ate away at him.

* 

They left the car a good distance away from the farm house and walked the approach. Sam sent his drone out ahead of them to scope it out, and its scans confirmed their suspicions. There was some kind of structure under the building: a few rooms that were too big to be a normal cellar, and with more recent construction than the house on top. It was exactly the place to hide an international fugitive. Bucky could tell Sam was uncertain about charging in - this wasn't what he'd agreed to. But eventually he conceded that if they were going to act, it should be now. The business earlier in the evening would have been reported to whoever was here. Zemo would know they were looking for him. If they waited any longer, they'd lose their element of surprise entirely. 

It was 3am when they entered the underground base, taking out the handful of men on lookout. Between redwing and Bucky, it was over in seconds. They found the stairs and before descending Sam hesitated. Bucky couldn't make out his face. 

"Buck, you don't need to do this."

Bucky blinked. "What?"

Sam opened his mouth but decided against whatever he was going to complain about. 

They headed down the stairs which turned out to be a mistake. Sam encoutered the first mercenary as he turned off the bottom step.

"Hey man, what's up?" Sam smiled at the man. He then punched him in the face, sending him backwards. Bucky drew his gun stopped when he realised the man was unconscious. No need. He crouched down and hit the guy's head with the back of his gun to be safe. Sam walked past him, beckoning for him to follow.

They were in a corridor, lit with an artificial light that made everything look a shade of grey. There were half a dozen or so doors lining the hall. Storage closets and a bathroom - nothing interesting. The corridor turned right and they could hear murming voices. Sam sent the drone ahead around the corner. 

"14 men. In a large room at the end of the hall." Sam read from his moniter.

Bucky nodded.

A shot fired and Sam's eyes widened as his display fizzled out. "Son of a bitch!"

The men came running and it was chaos after that. Bucky fought easily enough. With tight, compact movements he fought his way towards the room. He was right that they hadn't been expected. None of the goons had automatics on them and some weren't even armed. This was easy work for the Winter Soldier, dodging punches and blocking a few bullets with his arm. He was surprised to see the Falcon was keeping up. They forced their way into the room. It was a lab of some kind, with a heavy metal door. Bucky tried to scan his surroundings and saw one smaller, unarmed man at the far end. _Zemo_. 

Bucky charged for him, but didn't get very far. These guys were underarmed but they weren't amateurs. They were trying to shepherd Bucky and Sam further into the room, away from the exit. Bucky pushed harder, grabbing one man with his metal arm and throwing into a few of his comrades. In an instant, someone had a gun to his head but Sam took care of it, shooting the man in the leg before he had the chance. Some spark of admiration flickered in Bucky's mind. Sam was a strong fighter. He knew that, but he didn't expect him to be so comfortable in an enclosed space. He moved rhythmically - like he did in the air - throwing his body weight into his movements but never losing control. He was like a dancer.

Someone hit Bucky in the back of the head. He groggily turned round to see a large mercenary looming over him. He was strong and he wrestled against Bucky, pushing him back away from the door. A twist of the metal arm freed Bucky from his grip and in an instant he fired his gun into the mercenary. It clicked. Empty. Bucky blamed Sam for the mistake. He never normally lost track of these things. He kicked the man in the chest instead and he fell back into a table. Bucky reloaded, vaguely registering the crashing noise and a grunt from Sam behind him.

"Stop." Bucky recognised Zemo's voice. It was soft and friendly and cut Bucky straight to his core. "Stop what you're doing right now."

Bucky whipped around and raised his handgun, pointing at Zemo's head. He hesitated, realising what he was seeing. Up close, Zemo looked small and harmless. He looked a little thinner and a little older than the last time they met, but nothing like as gaunt and sinister as Bucky always imagined him. He knew better than to trust appearences, though. To the right of Zemo, Sam was on his knees. There was a man behind him holding a gun to his head. _Shit_.

"I will give the order to shoot. Your friend will die." Zemo's too soft voice rang out again. "Or you can let me leave in peace."

  
Bucky's brain scrambled to assess the situation. The soldier was too close to Sam - the barrel of the gun was touching the back of his head. There was no way he'd be able to stop him in time. Sam was looking at him but Bucky didn't make eye contact. The reason he came here was right in front of him.

  
"James, do you understand what I am telling you? Stand down or he dies." Zemo raised his voice slightly, but kept his tone delicate and deliberate.

  
Bucky was dimly aware of Sam's voice. He was shouting something but he couldn't make it out. He could barely focus on the man in front of him. His vision was full of images of bodies lining a corridor - men he had beaten, probably to death. He saw Sam thrust against a wall then thrown across the room without a second thought for his survival. He saw himself choking a woman, trying to kill her. He had wanted her dead. He wanted them all dead, thanks to Zemo.

  
Bucky refocused his eyes on Zemo. He steadied his arm, pointing the gun firmly at the man. He had to end this now.


	5. Chapter 5

**New York, 2023**

It was November the first time Sam visited Bucky after the funeral. One of those days when the wind was so cold it stung and the sky - in the few meagre hours of daylight there were - was grey and overbearing. Sam had brought booze and some frozen pizzas but genuinely wondered if there was any way to cook them once he entered the house. The first thing he did was laugh out loud.

Bucky looked a little offended. "What?"

"What do you mean what?" Sam gestured at the completely barren room. "This ain't a house, Barnes. Do you even have an oven?"

"Yeah, it's over - oh very funny." He caught Sam's eye and seemed to prepare himself for ridicule.

They ended up sitting on the floor - it's not like there was anywhere else to sit - and eating the cooked pizza off the boxes it came in because Barnes didn't have any plates either. Sam had been giving him shit for this for the last half an hour.

"I was planning on going to the store sometime. Need to get a bed and some kind-"

"You don't have a bed yet?" Sam laughed again. "How are you like this?"

"Do you ever shut up?"

Sam raised his eyebrows at Bucky while sipping his beer. He enjoyed winding the man up, but he let him continue.

"Need a bed and I want to set up some kind of surveillance system here. I could buy plates too."

"Maybe a sofa? God forbid some kind of chair?" 

"Yeah, exactly."

"You could get most of it at an IKEA or something. We could go tomorrow." Sam took another drink. "Actually, fuck that I shouldn't be driving."

"But you'll help?"

"Yeah, sure. I can probably get you a van for the day, come to think of it." Sam watched Bucky nod in agreement and take a drink of his own. "I've got a question for you."

"Yes?"

"Can you get drunk? Steve couldn't."

Bucky laughed. "I remember Steve giving up after a bottle of scotch didn't do the trick." He paused and looked at the beer he was holding. "I tried harder. I can, but it takes a hell of a lot."

"Perfect." Sam said, reaching into the bag he'd brought for the two bottles of whisky he'd left there. "You drink three times for every one I have."

"What?" Bucky said through laughter.

"Hey, I don't make the rules."

"Who else could have made that rule? Who else would have?"

"Suck it up, Barnes." Sam said, giggling a little. "It's nasty stuff too. Cheap as hell."

They drank and continued to talk but the mood died down a little. Sam regretted mentioning Steve. Bucky clearly wasn't as caught up in his feelings about Steve's departure anymore but he didn't seem completely over it. The guy must be lonely. For his part, Sam had pushed down whatever petty feelings of resentment he'd had towards the man; he was happy for him really. Everything else, however, had started to weigh on Sam over the last few weeks. That morning he had a read a news story of a one-year old that died after being restored from the snap. No one was there to look after it, no one expected any of them to come back, after all. It wasn't the only story of its type that Sam had read. He found himself seeking out the stories, though, like some kind of bizarre self-harm.

Barnes had stopped talking and was looking at Sam intently.

"What's up?" Sam tried to sound casual, not betraying the heaviness of his own thoughts.

When he spoke again, Bucky's voice was lower in pitch. "I appreciate you coming here, Sam."

"Don't mentio-"

"I like spending time with you," Bucky continued. "I... I don't see you the way I saw Steve. I'm not trying to replace him with you."

"Good." Sam didn't have any other response.

Bucky wasn't finished. "Steve was- is important to me but I don't feel..." He trailed off, struggling with whatever it was he trying to say.

"Look, Buck. I'm not here to be your therapist." Sam's words were harsh but it was true. Sam wanted Bucky to be okay, and he kept finding himself lookng after the man, but he wasn't in the mood.

"I- That's not..." Bucky looked pained and Sam immediately felt guilty for shutting him down. "I didn't mean it like that, Sam."

Sam sighed. "Look, it doesn't matter." He looked around the room, feeling more than a little awkward. The empty walls and utter lack of furniture didn't help. It was like the space was refusing to let him change the subject. _How does Bucky not get bored here?_ There was absolutely nothing to do.

"You should get a PS4." Sam mused, after an uncomfortable silence.

"I don't know what that is."

"Or PS5 or 6 or whatever they're on now. It's a game thing... it doesn't matter."

"I think I've got a pack of cards somewhere."

"Oh my, Mr Barnes. You spoil me." Sam's tone was sarcastic again, but this time it got a smile out of Bucky.

The games and the drinks slowly massaged them back into an easy rhythm. When Sam went home the next day, he felt physically terrible but his shoulders were a little less heavy. The sky was more of a bright white than a bitter grey, and the air was a little less cold.

*

**Serbia, 2024.**

"Bucky!?"

Bucky didn't even turn to look at Sam. He was staring at Zemo as if he wasn't even there.

"Bucky!"

He looked just like he used to: the winter soldier, unmoving, expressionless.

"Bucky!"

Sam could feel the gun against the back of his head. It felt burning hot, searing into his skin even though he knew that the metal was cold. 

"James!" Sam's voice cracked with desperation.

Bucky's eyes flicked to the side and his gaze met Sam's. His steely face gave way into an expression of pure fear. It was like he had only just realised what was happening. He dropped his gun and stood still, facing the floor.

The gun stayed pressed against Sam's head as the men hurried out of the room. The blood was pounding in Sam's ears and he realised he was shaking. He dimly registered that they'd taken something with them: a large metal briefcase. Sam couldn't turn his head to get a better look. The man behind him didn't move for a few minutes. _He's giving them time to get away._ When he finally lowered his weapon, Sam fell fowards onto his hands. He had barely a second to gather himself when a gunshot rang. It was deafening in the enclosed space and Sam's world span as he shakily got to his feet.

Bucky had shot the mercenary before he could leave. _Fuck_. Sam inspected the body, aware that he was shaking still. He was dead. Sam looked around for Bucky who was already heading out the door.

"What the fuck was that?" Sam's voice came out too loud.

Bucky stopped but didn't turn around. 

"I thought I could trust you, man. What the hell?" Sam was yelling now. He felt hot, angry and he was still shaking.

Bucky made a sound like he was trying to form words.

"That's not a fucking explanation. Fuck you, man."

Bucky shifted his stance a little. "I- I was focused on the mission and I-"

"This isn't focus. This is tunnel vision."

"I-"

"You were about to let me die for some fucking revenge quest. That's not why we came here."

Bucky turned around. He looked devastated by Sam's words. "I didn't. I wouldn't do that to you."

"I saw you! You can't look me in the eye and lie to me like that!" Sam could hear his own voice over the pounding in his ears. He was practically screaming. "I could see you- you weren't going to stop."

"Sam, I..." Bucky breathed deeply, steadying himself. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I hesitated but you have to believe me."

"I don't have to do anything."

"I couldn't stand to see you hurt, Sam."

Bucky's words hung in the air between them. The ringing from the gunshot still lingered in Sam's ears, as did the pounding of his heartbeat. The electric light in the room was too bright and it made everything look sickly. _It's 3am._ Sam blinked through his jetlag and tried to focus his thoughts and get the room to stop spinning. He thought there might be tears in his eyes. He couldn't tell. He was probably in shock and he was still sha-

"Sam, you're shaking."

Bucky walked over to him, bridging the gap between them. Without a pause he reached for Sam's shoulders and pulled him towards his chest and held him there tightly. It was an attempt to comfort Sam, to calm him down, just as Sam had done for Bucky a hundred times already. But it felt like something more, like Bucky was trying to tell Sam what he'd been failing to put into words before.

_Let me help you._

Sam didn't resist. In fact, he leaned into it without thinking, gripping the back of Bucky's jacket hard. He was pushing against him, letting some of his anger out into the embrace. Eventually, Sam felt his breathing grow steady and his heartrate slow down. He loosened his grip on the back of Bucky's jacket and willed his body to relax. After what felt like hours, but was probably no more than a minute, he allowed himself to melt into the other man some more. He felt Bucky's right arm on his neck, his thumb brushing against his skin. Sam's mind had calmed enough for him to register how strange this was. Their friendship was usually so casual and surface level and yet here was Bucky being caring and tender and _hard. ­Oh crap_. Sam stepped back instinctively.

Bucky's face went from distraught at Sam's sudden departure to pure embarassment when he realised why. He turned away with his face to the floor and cleared his throat. 

"We should-"

"Yeah," Sam wasn't thinking about the words he was saying. He was still so angry at Bucky but there was now a considerable portion of confusion added to the mix. He watched as Bucky made himself busy around the room, presumably looking for clues as to where Zemo might be heading. It occurred to Sam that he should probably be doing the same. Instead, he spoke again.

"You've got any more curve balls to throw at me today, or is that everything?"

Bucky turned and made eye contact from across the room, just for a second. He looked scared more than anything else. Sam half-smiled at him, aware that it probably looked more like a grimace. Thankfully, before he had to think of anything else to say, a voice came through on Sam's earpiece.

"Falcon, do you copy?"

"Yeah, we're here. Zemo's gone."

"Who's that?" Bucky interrupted.

"Carter." Sam replied. He had been keeping her updated since they landed. He hadn't told Bucky. "He was here, now he's gone. It should be safe. You can come down."

"Is it empty?" Sharon again.

"No, I count five dead on your way in. Keep an eye out, they might not be."

"Five?" Bucky mouthed, like he was only just realising.

"Six including him," Sam said to Bucky, gesturing at the man on the ground.

Bucky blinked. "Fuck."

"They weren't all you, James."

He didn't answer.

"Are you injured?" Sharon asked.

"Nah, we're good." Sam replied. "They killed my bird though."

"Redwing? Well, that sucks."

Sam looked at Bucky. "Yeah, it sucks."

*

Searching the lab was frustrating, but not completely useless. Whatever they'd been putting together down here - what they'd taken with them in that metal case - was almost certainly a bomb. The question of where the hell Zemo was taking it was still unanswered.

The decision was made for them a few hours later, as they watched the sun come up. Sam was sat on the hood of the car Sharon came in - they'd abandoned the stolen sedan where they left it - sipping some awful gas station coffee when Sharon got a call. She was being sent to Tokyo where the G7 conference was being held. They were tightening security because of Zemo's escape. If Sharon's boss had any concrete evidence of Zemo's plans, he wasn't telling her any of it and Sam didn't like a second of it. However, Sharon was his lift home. They were going to Japan.

Sharon had flown here herself, which was surprising. It wasn't the quinjet Sam had hoped for, but some airforce carrier plane that made it all the more surprising that she'd got permission to land in a Serbian airfield. Sharon had connections, clearly. 

Sam sat in the co-pilot seat next to Sharon, although he could hardly say he was helping. He was in no state to fly but he liked the company. He'd only seen Sharon few times in the years when they were on the run. The woman had risked a hell of a lot for Steve and Sam could tell she had regrets about how that had ended. All the same, she was loyal to a fault and Sam was glad to have her by his side - especially if he couldn't rely on Barnes. 

The man himself had gone to sit in the back of the plane, having barely said a word the entire time. The need to deal with him - to do something about it - was pressing at Sam but it wasn't the only thing that was bothering him.

"But _why_ though?"

"You're gonna have to give me more than that, Sam." Sharon was bemused. "Why what?"

"Zemo's not a terrorist."

"Might have to disagree with you on that one. Come on, it's his entire deal. He blew up the UN."

"Yeah, but it isn't - not really. He didn't blow up the UN to terrorise people, or for any ideological reason. He did it to get to him." Sam gestured back towards Bucky. "The whole thing was about Stark in the end."

"Okay, I hear that." Sharon looked pensive. "Last time you chased him around the world, you were wrong about him. You expect that to happen again."

"Yeah."

Sharon paused. When she spoke again she was smiling. "You know, you and Steve are very different. I don't think he'd ever second guess something like this."

"You're saying I'm too cautious?"

"Caution isn't a bad thing. You might have a point." Sharon bit her lip. "I assume you've heard about John Walker."

Sam sighed. He'd been putting off thinking about it. He'd turned his phone on when they left the bunker and been faced with a hundred missed calls. Some of them were from his mother. 

"I really don't want to talk about him, Sharon."

"It doesn't matter what you want, Sam." Sharon smiled at him, softening the blow a bit. "But you do want to be Captain, right?"

"Yes!" Sam was surprised by how quickly he answered. "I mean, I'm not sure if I should. It doesn't feel right, not completely... not yet. But I do want it."

Sharon looked at him, her head turned to the side. "Then take it. If you want something like that, you should take it. You'll regret it otherwise." She shrugged and turned her face away. "For what it's worth, Ross seems to be acting independently on this. He's got a few allies in the executive branch, but nearly everybody was blindsided by this. And people don't like it. They don't trust him."

"Yeah and in other news, the pope is Catholic." 

That got a laugh out of Sharon.

"I have a question." Sam said, after another long pause.

"Shoot."

"Do you think he'll try to do what he wanted with Banner's research again? On Walker? Do you think he already has?"

Sharon's eyes widened. She was surprised Sam even knew about that. "It's... it's complicated. He shouldn't have access to any of that anymore. It was all sealed off by S.H.I.E.L.D."

"Which means nothing anymore."

"Not nothing. But I get your point." She sighed. "As far as the agency's concerned, there haven't been any more experiments."

"Yet."

Sharon nodded. "Yet."

"Alright. I'm tired." Sam wasn't lying. Whatever adrenaline had been keeping him going this long was spent. "I'm gonna sleep. Wake me up in four hours, I'll take over flying."

Sharon nodded again. She turned as Sam was leaving the cockpit. "I think we'd know if he tried anything. Last time someone made a super-soldier with Banner's research, what they made..."

"I know."

Sam walked back into the plane and sat on the opposite side to Bucky. He rested his injured leg up on the seat - not that it really hurt anymore - and leaned back against the partition. It wasn't comfortable but it would do. His eyes, however, didn't close and Sam found himself very much awake and staring at Bucky. The other man was avoiding eye contact. Sam realised that this was one of the first times he'd really seen his face. Without all the hair and the beard, he looked so much younger and his expressions clearer. It didn't make him easier to read, though. Sam still couldn't figure him out.

_I can't go back. I'm not like Steve._

Those words from last year sounded again in Sam's head. He had assumed Bucky was talking about what Hydra had done to him but maybe that wasn't what he had meant. _Or maybe you're reading into it_. No. Bucky had been carressing his neck and pushing his erection against Sam less than two hours ago. There was no misinterpreting that. If Barnes liked men, then of course he wouldn't want to go back to the 1940s. There wasn't much chance of a happy ever after for men like that back then. _Men like you, at least a little bit,_ thought Sam but he pushed the idea aside. He wasn't in the mood for self-reflection. 

_If you want it, take it._

"Bucky."

Bucky looked at Sam who gestured at the seat next to him. Bucky unbuckled himself and walked over. They were out of Sharon's line of sight and she definitely couldn't hear them over the sound of the aircraft.

"Sam-" Bucky started to speak but Sam cut him off. 

He didn't want to hear another apology; he didn't want to be reminded of the shit that Bucky pulled earlier.

Sam reached out and rested a hand on Bucky's knee. Bucky's eyes widened. He covered Sam's hand in his right, moving a little too quickly like he was worried Sam would change his mind. Sam had no such plans as he held Bucky's hand in his own, their faces so close he could feel the other man's body heat. Bucky moved towards him and Sam leaned back, reaching a hand down to unzip his pants. If Bucky was surprised by the move, he didn't show it as he lowered himself over Sam and took him in his mouth.

Pleasure hit Sam like a wave along with the thought that there was no way Bucky hadn't done this before. Sam had to stop himself from moaning. He ran a hand through Bucky's hair as Bucky massaged Sam's thigh while he worked. The metal arm stayed out of reach with Bucky only using it to steady himself. This seemed like a shame to Sam. _Oh fuck._ Sam tried to thrust his hips but Bucky moved his hand from his thigh to his ass and gripped him, controlling Sam's movement. Something about being held that way - the strong hand gripping his ass - sent Sam over the edge. He tilted Bucky's head back so he could see his face as he came. Bucky kept eye contact through Sam's orgasm and then began to turn away. Sam stopped him, holding his face. He looked so pretty like this: eyes wide and mouth open, a slight sweat on his skin. Sam traced the outline of his jaw, revelling in the afterglow. He wanted to kiss him. He was going to kiss him.

But Bucky stood up and walked away, sitting back down on the far side of the plane.

Sam didn't have the energy to say anything. He adjusted his pants, making sure he was decent and took one last look at Bucky, who was facing away from him again. Then Sam leaned back and closed his eyes. This time the sleep came easy and he drifted off with one lingering thought:

_That wasn't very cautious of me, was it?_


	6. Chapter 6

Carter had brought them to a CIA safe house in Tokyo, which turned out to be a small, clean apartment in the city. In the last day and a half, the only time Bucky hadn't spent on a plane or in a car, had been when he was being shot at. He could have melted into bed the second they arrived, but he forced himself out to do a perimeter check. In theory, no one knew they were here, but it paid to be careful.

  
Sam had been on his phone non-stop since they landed, facing some variation of "Why does someone else have your shield?" from a long list of people. Bucky didn't pry but he suspected at least one call was from Nick Fury, another from Stark's widow and a long, endearing conversation was shared with his mother. Sam reassured her that yes, he was still going to be Captain America and god did he sound proud of himself when he said it. _The smug bastard._ In fact, if there was one way of describing Sam's mood today, despite everything that was going on, it was "smug". Bucky wondered if that was because of him.

So, he made his checks, exploring around the apartment building for an hour or so. Bucky was acutely aware that he stood out a lot more here than he did in eastern Europe and his Japanese was barely passable. He didn't feel safe here, although he conceded that the safe house was, indeed, safe and that Carter had done a good job. He headed back to the apartment.

*

He masturbated in the shower.

It felt adolescent and a bit pathetic of him but Bucky didn't feel he had any other options. He'd woken up from his nap to find Carter and Sam discussing something intently over food. It was probably important but Bucky could care about that later. So he came in the shower with no help from Sam aside from the memory of the taste of him. _You should savour that memory, it won't happen again._ Bucky stepped out of the shower with none of the clarity that he'd hoped for. The brief release granted him no more control over his thoughts. He remembered the men of the thirties and forties and their back alley encounters. There was no talking, no kissing and no names - just hands and mouths and sometimes, because he was young and pretty, he'd take them and sometimes, because he was tall and strong, they'd let him take them. _It happened in the army too._ It was less anonymous in the barracks but still distant, unattached. Bucky wishes he could remember it better but at the same time he knew they weren't fond memories. He didn't want more of them. _It's the best you can hope for_. But he had hoped for more. 

Bucky attempted to shake off the images. They were barely even _his_ memories, after all. He scrambled into some jeans and a shirt and left the bathroom. There was food and the mission: important things.

  
"...calls himself the "supreme sorcerer" or something like that. Trippiest shit I have ever seen."

Carter laughed at whatever story Sam was telling as Bucky entered the kitchen. His first thought is an ugly one. _Why are they laughing?_ They weren't laughing at him. _Is he charming her?_ He could charm anyone. _Is she sweet on him?_ Bucky had no reason to think that. _He didn't tell you she was coming._

"Hey." Carter nodded at him with a polite smile.

Sam threw him a nod.

Bucky grunted by way of a reply and sat down.

_Sam likes women. You know that. You're certain of that._

"You ordered food?" Bucky managed.

_Wouldn't be the first straight man to let you do what you did._

"We got katsu. It'll be cold by now," Sam passed Bucky a container and a plastic fork. He must have been making a face he wasn't aware of because Sam added. "Don't worry, yours isn't chicken. Some tofu thing."

"You don't eat meat?" Carter asked casually, trying to make conversation.

"Not really." Bucky replied before shoving a forkfull of rice and curry sauce into his mouth. It was cold, but he was too hungry to care. It tasted good, somehow providing a sense of relief that Bucky couldn't find in the shower.

"He likes animals." Sam smiled at him, grinning with that hint of mischief and implied mockery that Bucky had come to recognise. "It's sweet."

He was looking just at Bucky then and there. Bucky decided that even if he was being mocked it was fine. Carter might as well not be there. When Sam smiled at him, the two were alone together for that moment.

Bucky shook his head in an attempt to physically organise his brain. He swallowed his food and pointed at Sam. "What are you wearing?"

Sam leaned back in his chair and gestured at his t-shirt, a garish blue number which was too small for him. It had an image of Steve's shield printed on the front. 

"It was the biggest one in the store." Sharon interjected. "And for the record, I think it's unnecessary."

Sam snorted and then, dripping in sarcasm, "Some people don't have any sense of showmanship."

Bucky returned to eating. This clearly wasn't important.

A few minutes later, Carter received a message and began to leave.

"I see what I can find out without ruffling too many feathers." She said to Sam. "You've got my laptop so when you've finished with the whole..." She waved her hand in Sam's general direction. "... _this_ thing, you guys can gather intel."

"I dunno, intelligence isn't really his strong suit."

Bucky looked up from his meal. "You're such an asshole, Wilson." 

Sam just grinned at him again and Bucky fell a little harder. Smug bastard.

*

After Carter left, Bucky asked Sam what was going on.

Sam slouched in his chair a little, sighing. "I don't even know. A lot of things, man." He paused and when he spoke again it was slower, more methodical. "CIA wouldn't have dragged Carter here if they weren't certain Zemo was going to attack."

Bucky nodded.

"But if they're certain Zemo's going to attack...?" Sam asked, giving Bucky the opportunity to work it out for himself.

"Then why is the conference still happening." Bucky finished. _Oh_.

"So that's the first thing, right?" Sam started messing around with the laptop on the kitchen table. "The second thing is who sent the death threats."

"What death threats?"

"Dude, I was joking when I called you dumb earlier but damn."

"Asshole." Bucky paused, remembering. "Zemo's escape was only possible because he was being threatened. They were moving him and the transport was jumped."

Sam nodded. "I'd assumed he'd done it himself somehow. He'd got someone to send the threats, make it look like a credible risk."

"But now you think it was somebody else."

"I think Zemo's the most hated man on the planet. More than Bin Laden. Hell, more than Stark." Sam said, more to himself than to Bucky.

"Sam, what are you saying?"

"I dunno, man. I'm this close to making a hat out of tin foil."

"What?"

"Nevermind," Sam sat up in his seat. "Sharon's looking into it as much as she can. Why the conference is still happening, where that pressure's coming from. Until we find out anything else, we sit tight and stick to the original plan. Let the CIA do their job, we're just backup."

It occurred to Bucky that it was ridiculous for him to ever have thought he was dragging Sam into something. He remembered what he'd said in the bunker. _Tunnel vision._ He wasn't thinking of the big picture. No wonder they'd been making plans without him.

"And the third thing?"

"What?" Sam asked, not looking up from the computer.

"You still haven't explained this." Bucky gestured again to the t-shirt.

"Oh," Sam cocked his head. "You like what you see?"

Bucky's brain short-circuited at that and he looked at Sam with his eyes wide and mouth slightly open. The shirt was tight across Sam's chest and Bucky had been staring. He felt himself blush, aware that the days of being able to look at Sam like that without him noticing were behind him.

"Relax, Buck." Sam flashed him that teasing grin again. "Captain America has to make a public statement."

*

Bucky's understanding of social media was, obviously, limited and he mostly sat back and listened as Sam explained himself. He took his guns apart and cleaned them for something to do with his hands while Sam talked him through everything that had happened since Walker debuted a day and a half ago. Apparently, there had been considerable backlash to the stunt and a lot of people had taken Sam's side in the matter. It was, apparently, very important that Bucky knew that LeBron James had tweeted about it. He didn't know who that was and was afraid to ask. Better to keep Sam smiling about it. 

The plan was, as far as Bucky could make out, to release a public statement, claiming the title back. Official endorsements would follow, from Stark's people, from Banner and whatever other politicians and public figures they could find. Stark's widow had already assigned a PR team to work the case. Sam seemed a bit uncomfortable with that, aware that it was motivated more by a sense of loyalty to Steve than belief in Sam's abilities. Either way, he had to put something out there or people would think he'd just given up.  
The question of how, if ever, Sam could get the shield back dangled in the air. The implied threat from Ross was still present. Sam might not stay pardoned, he might have to go on the run again. They might send him to the raft again. Sam seemed to think the best hope was to rally public support, which might convince congress to intervene. As plans go, it was unstable and felt to weasely, too political. It didn't sit well with Bucky and he could tell Sam wasn't certain either.

Bucky started paying more attention when Sam recorded his little announcement. It was to be posted on the official Captain America twitter account which was, apparently, a thing Stark had run, back in the day. This was funny to Sam, for some reason. Bucky didn't really understand, but he sat back and listened while Sam recorded anyway.

"Hi. I'm Sam Wilson. Sorry about the t-shirt but I was dead for five years. I get back, get a promotion and haven't had time to get a uniform fitted and some guy's out their saying he's got my job. Can't catch a break.

"I'm gonna cut right to the point here. Steve _chose_ me. He gave the shield to me. But this is about more than that. It was always bigger than Steve, you know? But now there's this guy trying to make Captain America great again or whatever and I... It's not about going back. Not to the forties or even to ten years ago when Steve was Cap. It's about now - the world we're in now and all it's problems. It's about believeing we can change things, not to revert to the past but to fix the present, the future. 

"I know I'm not super, like Steve - believe me, there is no one out there who is anything like Steve Rogers - but I am Captain America... and I'm getting my shield back"

As Bucky listened, he found himself moved by Sam's words. He'd listened to a hundred of Steve's motivational speeches and he'd never really cared for them. But Sam's words were less formal, more honest and they got to Bucky on some level, sparking a little fire of hope inside of him. Not guaranteeing a perfect future, but showing potential for a better one.

But that's what Sam was: potential. Sam represented what could be. Maybe that's what he had always been to Bucky. Cutting his hair, sorting his house out, trying to carve some kind of life for himself in the strange new world Steve had left him in. He didn't do these things to please Sam. He did them because Sam made him feel like they were worth doing. It wasn't just about wanting Sam, it was wanting to be with Sam, in the future tense. What "being with Sam" meant suddenly had a great deal of potential.

_He hasn't even acknowledged what happened._

That train of thought was, thankfully, interrupted by a phone call from Carter. Sam answered and his face fell.

"What is it?" asked Bucky.

Sam didn't answer straight away, muttering a few inconsequential words to Carter. Then he hung up and looked at Bucky.

"Sometimes I think I'd prefer it if I wasn't right all the goddamn time." There was a trace of anger in his voice.

"Sam, explain this to me."

Sam looked at Bucky like he was decided how much to tell him. "We know why the conference is still taking place. It's us, the Americans..."

Bucky waited for more.

"Somehow," Sam continued. "Even though he's not the secretary of defense anymore, even though he's not fucking secretary of anything anymore-" Sam cut himself off, self-conscious about the emotion in his words.

Bucky worked it out. "It's Ross."

"Yeah,"

Bucky contemplated Sam's words. If Ross was keeping people here, they could assume he knew about Zemo. "The most hated man on the planet tries to blow up the G7-"

"...and _his_ Captain America saves the day." Sam looked at Bucky with a fiery determination in his eyes.

*

There was a sharp air of anticipation as the night drew in. Bucky resolved to keep watch overnight, although they weren't expecting anything. It was a reasonable precaution to take and Bucky needed the sleep less than Sam did. So he was stood in the short hallway of the apartment, facing the door, leaning against the wall, not in his uniform, but armed. There was a soft orange light from the bedroom off the hall. The bedroom door was open while Sam was in the shower. The sound of running water and the gentle glow of the light was calming.

Bucky was no good at meditating. He could stop thinking easily enough. He'd got pretty good at shutting all his thoughts down, but Shuri had told him that was disassociation, not meditation. When it resulted in him barely speaking for days on end and retaining only basic survival skills and violence, Bucky was inclined to agree that it wasn't a good thing. So instead he forced himself to keep thinking, gently considering each thought as it came to him. One at a time. He tried to process what happened in the bunker. There were gaps in the memory, even though it was so recent. There always were. The brain can't heal perfectly. Damage stays with you. You have to learn to live with it. 

He'd shot the man who threatened Sam. _He was leaving._ Bucky tried to process the thought calmly. _You killed him as he was trying to get away._ No, he had still been a threat. _He was leaving and you shot him._

The noise of the bathroom door opening interrupted his thoughts. Sam stepped out with a towel around his waist. Sam was okay. Sam was alive. That was what mattered. Sam had let him touch him.

"Hey," Sam nodded at Bucky, smiling. It must have looked like he had been waiting for him which, if he was honest, maybe he had been.

"Sam." 

Sam approached Bucky, leaning against the wall opposite and to the side, keeping Bucky's eyeline with the door clear. He stayed there, a few metres away. 

"Do you-" Sam hesitated. He took a breath and began again. "I'm gonna be honest with you, man, I don't really know what I'm doing."

"When has that ever stopped you before?"

Sam laughed. "You've got me there. Just kind of throw myself into things." He laughed again, at himself, but with a trace of excitement in his voice. "You know, Sharon says I'm cautious."

"Nah," Bucky turned his head to look at Sam fully, still leaning against the wall. "You're too impulsive for "cautious". Cerebral, maybe?"

"Cerebral? That's a big word for you." Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Did I mention you're an asshole?" 

They were dancing around the topic. 

"James," Sam said softly.

Bucky was suddenly too aware of Sam's body and the near-nakedness thereof. He forced himself to keep his eyes on Sam's face which didn't help, because Sam's face was beautiful.

"I've never done that before," Sam continued. "With a man, like that. I'd never..." His voice got somehow softer still, lower and with an edge to it. "But I liked it."

Bucky had no words. The blood had rushed away from his head and his ability to process what Sam was saying was compromised. "That's..." .. _.the hottest thing I've ever heard._ He cleared his throat. "That's definitely impulsive."

Sam bit his lip and looked Bucky up and down very deliberately. "Well, maybe I'm in an impulsive mood."

Bucky froze, not for the first time today. His unnatural reaction registered with Sam, who immediately changed posture and his expression turned to a look of concern.

"James, if I- I didn't mean... On the plane, I thought you wanted-"

"No. Sam I-" Bucky laughed, a little nervously. "I wanted it. I really wanted it."

Sam was reassured. He returned the smile and removed the towel. Bucky stopped breathing.

He watched as Sam casually flung the towel over the top of the bathroom door to dry. He took note of the planes of his body, his dense muscle and smooth skin peppered in places with black hair. He stared at his ass which was firm and inviting and Bucky ached with the memory of what it had felt like in his hand. He found himself updating his earlier fantasies of being on top of him, inside of him, with this image of Sam. Warm and damp with eyes reflecting amber in the low light. _This can't be happening._ Sam stepped back towards him, daring him to speak.

"I have to keep watch!" Bucky blurted out, impotently. He cursed himself inwardly but stuck with it. "And you should get some sleep."

Sam let out a little laugh and shook his head. He made eye contact with Bucky briefly, showing a flash of disappointment.

"Yeah, okay man." He began to turn away. "You just keep watching."

Bucky did as he was told, watching Sam walk into his room. He walked slowly, with a slight swagger in his hips. Christ. He was doing it on purpose. Bucky found himself trying to commit every inch of him to memory.

With the bedroom door closed, the hallway was dark again. The gentle sound of the shower had been replaced by the chaotic noises of the city. Bucky tried to process his thoughts again, considering the details of the mission, trying to contemplate Zemo. And, like before, thinking about that man and Hydra and everything they'd done to him took Bucky's mind away from Sam. But it took a little longer than usual.


End file.
